


Anywhere You Want To Go

by BaggerHeda



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, No plot at all, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, They just have sex, because of course, they really like having sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaggerHeda/pseuds/BaggerHeda
Summary: Her voice came drifting, pretty as a siren’s song, commanding sweet questions that Nicole would follow anywhere. “Tell me. What did you like the most?”*****Some no-plot WayHaught sexytime. Nicole POV. Waverly wants a story, Nicole tells her one.





	1. Anywhere You Want To Go

Nicole looked up from her vantage point, with her head in Waverly’s lap, with Waverly’s fingers twisting idly through her hair, and smiled. They had settled in for the evening, sprawled on the couch in comfort. Nicole was not paying attention to anything besides how nice it felt to be sitting idle with her girlfriend, right that very minute … warm and peaceful and content. Waverly, on the other hand, was frowning a bit at the television, and madly flipping through channels, waving the remote like a conductor’s baton. “Eh, stupid tv. Nothing’s on,” she grumbled. She hit the mute button and set the remote down, leaving the room bathed in flickering blue-white light.

Nicole hadn’t been watching whatever had obviously just ended - one of those competition cooking shows ... maybe - so she merely said, “Wanna go upstairs?”

“Sure,” said Waverly, but instead of shifting to rise from the couch, she leaned to one side, in order to snake her hand under Nicole’s shirt.

“Or this,” said Nicole.

“You can be my tv show,” said Waverly. “I’d rather watch you than those guys anyway.”

Nicole shifted her position to allow an easier reach for Waverly, laughing low and amused. “Who on earth would want to see me on television?”

“I would, in a heartbeat,” said Waverly, leaning down to lay her cheek flat against Nicole’s torso. “You can be my travel channel. You’ve traveled, right? Tell me about someplace you’ve been,” she murmured, her breath ghosting over skin as she tugged and untucked the officer’s shirt. Nicole felt goosebumps rise, and the small shiver that flashed through her. She turned her body, twisting her shoulders against Waverly’s thigh, to return the favor. Her fingertips traced a teasing line under the hem of Waverly’s crop top, soft cotton and softer skin, while her lips caressed the gentle curves of her abdomen. Waverly shifted, too, and they reached for each other, entwining, their bodies getting more and more tangled. Soon, they had gotten themselves twisted up and amusingly stymied.

“Wait, hang on,” said Nicole, as she carefully unwound and sat up (not wanting to bash Waverly with a stray elbow or something) and then rearranged herself reclining on the couch, guiding Waverly into her lap above her. “There, that’s better. Less pretzel-like.”

From her new position astride Nicole’s hips, Waverly had gone back to tugging at Nicole’s shirt. “Lift up a bit, let me take this off,” she said.

Nicole complied, and then started working on the buttons of Waverly’s shirt. “So, where were we,” she hummed out, unhurried. The night was young, and Waverly looked beautiful in the low light of the unwatched screen, ethereal and a little shadowy.

Waverly bit her lower lip, and as soon as Nicole had finished unbuttoning her top, she undid her bra and threw it aside, then caught Nicole’s hands and brought them both to her body, placing them firmly on her sides. Nicole let them slowly wander from there, running palms over Waverly’s ribcage, feeling drunk on her lover’s skin, tracking the lovely swell of the sides of her breasts. Waverly said, “You’re going to tell me a story.”

“Yes I am,” agreed Nicole, her focus fully caught by the young woman, the rise of desire matched by the rise of ever-present affection. “You wanted to hear about … someplace? Where?”

Waverly was running her short manicured nails over Nicole’s forearms, slow teasing loops from wrist to crook of elbow and back again, in a way that had Nicole humming. “Anywhere,” she breathed, leaning a little more firmly into Nicole’s hands. “You’ve been a bunch of different places, right? Tell me about your favorite.”

Nicole felt the way Waverly’s weight shifted against her hips, and the involuntary response the movement woke in her own core, slowly curling into cascading heat. “I don’t have just one favorite. But, maybe … New Orleans? You haven’t been there, right?”

“I haven’t been anywhere,” said Waverly. “Tell me, please.” Her voice was low and warm; Nicole associated the tone with Waverly at her most curious. She had a fleeting image of Waverly as a very young child, reverently cracking open a book on the first day of school. Nicole quirked a little grin at her imagination, then returned to the story.

“New Orleans. Oh, how I love that city,” said Nicole, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Went there a couple of times one year when I lived near Baton Rouge, couldn’t stay long. Just a tourist.” She trailed her hands down, resting them on the swell of Waverly’s hips, clad in the yoga pants that Nicole particularly loved, because they emphasized her shape in a way Nicole appreciated a great deal. Her fingertips traced over the top of Waverly’s ass, the fine curve of muscles there. “I stayed with friends, and we did the whole Frenchmen Street thing, and of course Bourbon Street.”

One of Waverly’s hands had gone to tracing the lace edge of Nicole’s bra, across the expanse of her upper chest, dark satin contrasting with creamy pale skin. She asked, “This was after the hurricane?”

“Yeah, a ways after,” replied Nicole. “Eight years later, I think. Some parts weren’t back, some parts were most of the way recovered. The tourist parts were pretty much completely back.” She pursed her lips, tried to keep her mind from drifting far from her tale. Waverly’s fingertips were sidetracking her in wonderful ways, how they carried fire in their elegant curled shapes, tracing lines across her body, striking sparks like flint on steel.

Waverly began rolling her hips, slow and subtle. Her voice came drifting, pretty as a siren’s song, commanding sweet questions that Nicole would follow anywhere. “Tell me. What did you like the most?”

“The music. The food,” Nicole said as she caught on to Waverly’s motion, mostly unaware, and started to sway into it. “Everywhere I went, the people were wonderful, and the history and the layers of the culture were fascinating, but it was the music just knocked me out. And the food. So good.”

“Tell me about the food there, what was it like,” said Waverly. She leaned down toward Nicole as her hands came to rest next to her shoulders, with a graceful arch to her back, so that the skin of their bellies brushed together. Nicole sucked in a quick breath at the warmth of it, and ran her hands up either side of Waverly’s spine, enjoying the tingle in her fingertips and the small shudders she could feel under them.

“Wonderful little cafés and restaurants, everywhere - ahh - ” Nicole sighed out as Waverly’s lips found the place on her neck that always, always distracted her.

Waverly smiled. Nicole could feel the curve of the young woman’s lips, pressed into the small spot just under the hinge of the jaw, followed by the tip of Waverly’s tongue barely tracing the line of Nicole’s pulse, slowly down, down, until she just reached the collarbone. It was so richly delicate and achingly intimate that Nicole could only hold her breath, could only hold herself still and shuddering as it sent desire coursing through her veins.

When Nicole opened eyes she hadn’t realised she’d closed, she saw Waverly barely feigning innocence and looking amused as she sat back up, rising radiantly over Nicole’s prone form. _God, how can one woman be so sexy,_ thought Nicole. Waverly raised an eyebrow, wordlessly indicating that the story _should_ be continuing and minor displeasure that it _wasn’t,_ and Nicole somehow kept in her laughter, merely raising her own eyebrow in return. _Game on,_ she thought, _we’ll see who distracts who._

“ … everywhere,” Nicole resumed as if there had been no pause. Now her hands had traveled to Waverly’s thighs, stroking and kneading the long muscles along the top, and her thumbs tracing firm strong lines along the inside of her legs, reaching just a little higher with each pleasurable stroke. Waverly squirmed a bit, and the rocking of her hips grew more noticeable. “We ate at lots of little neighborhood joints because we couldn’t afford the big-name famous places,” Nicole continued, “and god, I wanted to try it all. Red beans. Gumbo. Étouffée. There was this one place in the Lower Garden that had insanely good oysters at happy hour prices, and we had them bring tray after tray to the table while we sat on the verandah, drinking, rain pelting down just a few feet away.”

Waverly had a sweet little half-smile playing across her lips, though Nicole would have been hard-pressed to say if it was from the story, or from the way she’d found the perfect rhythm and had started to slowgrind on Nicole’s mound. She lifted both hands to her hair, sweeping it back from her face and holding it piled on top of her head. Nicole’s heart skipped a beat; the (certainly intentional) effect was to lift Waverly’s breasts in a way maddenly irresistible and wonderfully beguiling, and both of Nicole’s hands rose to tenderly cup them, and brush her thumbs across the nipples.

“But do you want to know the most perfect thing I put in my mouth?” whispered Nicole.

“Tell me,” Waverly breathed out, and Nicole curled up her body to bring her mouth to Waverly’s breast, enveloping the tender peak in wet warmth, feeling it harden under the sweep of her tongue, broad and slow. Nicole sucked and circled, enjoying the shuddery gasps that fell from Waverly’s throat.

When Nicole finally released her prize and sank back down, it was Waverly with shaking breath and eyes drifting slowly open, pupils blown and dark with desire. Nicole murmured, low and sweet, “It was bread pudding. A brioche bread pudding, served with a warm white chocolate sauce, that had the most divine texture. Each bite was perfect, melting away while the flavor lingered … god, I think I still dream about it sometimes.”

Waverly appreciated the story, judging by the wide smile that crossed her face. The pace of her grind had come faster now, and she lifted her chin in sheer pleasure at the play of their bodies. One of Nicole’s hands dropped to toy with the waistband of her pants, while the other ascended the stretch of her neck, traveling up to find the span of her lips with her thumb, gently pushing inside. Waverly accepted it immediately, sucking and swirling her tongue around the digit. Nicole gazed at her in awe, thinking she was as beautiful as a goddess, rising there in the strange shifting light from the long-forgotten television.

“You are so beautiful like this,” Nicole said abruptly. “I want you riding my cock like this. Can we go get it?”

Nicole felt the jolt rattle through Waverly’s body, caused by the words, and suddenly they were both panting just a little heavier.

“Not … not yet. Later,” said Waverly, her voice somewhere between teasing and regret. “More story first.” But she leaned down and took Nicole’s lower lip between her teeth, preventing any storytelling. Nicole’s head spun at the sensation, at the small nip and the huge, raw need that it woke, and when Waverly let go and backed away slightly, she could only dive back to Waverly’s mouth, lips parted and tongue sliding forward, wet and urgent. Waverly took it and matched it, the kiss growing fierce, climbing with heat, as Nicole’s hands ranged freely over the slender body atop hers.

They were both gasping when Waverly finally broke the kiss, sitting back up. “More, more story,” she panted, hazel eyes flickering, trying to focus on Nicole. “Tell, tell me about the music.”

“It fills the air. It fills you,” growled Nicole. “We spent a lot of time on Frenchmen Street, where the famous clubs are. But not just there. Everywhere, it surrounds you.” She battled to keep her voice steady and her story on track, while her skin was aflame, her mind caught in the torrent of need.

“How did it sound. How did it feel.” Waverly exhaled the words, her breath shaking, a moan that echoed as wanton as Nicole felt, spiking heat straight to her core.

“Sometimes you’ll be walking down the street and the music comes pouring out of every door, like a celebration.” With Waverly’s mouth out of reach, it was Nicole’s hands that were pouring everything into every part of Waverly she could reach. Shoulders and breasts and hips and thighs, Nicole gave all the urgent desire and all the untamed lust and all the unabashed love she felt, through her roving strong hands. “We saw a second line parade, down in the Treme, brass horns shouting hallelujah. We went to Preservation Hall, for the traditional bands. Went to the Spotted Cat, heard the best jazz in my life. Everything was music, and the music was everything.”

Waverly was arching into Nicole’s hands, her movements becoming wilder, swaying so lovely above her.

“And the best thing about beautiful, messy, joyful New Orleans,” panted out Nicole, working her hand under the waistband of Waverly’s pants, ready to take her story home, “is the people there, when they want to celebrate, they know how to live life to the very top. They always say in the city, let the good times roll. And they are in no hurry about it. They know how to make the good times roll on, and on.”

Waverly smiled, all smoke and white-hot desire, and said, _“Laissez les bons temps rouler.”_

Nicole slid deep inside, heat and wet and the silksoft feel of being in Waverly almost overwhelming her in a single moment, and Waverly cried out a beautiful clear note as her eyes rolled back and her neck arched in a lovely curve of flesh. She rocked, hard, and Nicole began to move, sure and strong.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Nicole chanted out, her steady thrust matching the swing of Waverly’s hips, the heel of her hand pressed hard to Waverly’s clit, as Waverly found the rhythm and the friction that sent her climbing, climbing ragged and eager to the top, then sailing free. “That’s it. That’s it. I’ll take you there. Come up. Come for me, baby.”

Waverly moaned loud, her voice rising as her body writhed, as she rode Nicole fierce and high. Her face flashed with joy, clenching down on Nicole’s fingers, and Nicole watched and watched and watched and her heart sang, still whispering, “That’s it, that’s it, c’mon,” letting Waverly set the pace, letting Waverly take as much as she wanted. And Waverly took. Nicole wanted to live there forever, feeling how the pleasure roared and swirled around them, feeling Waverly tight and pulsing on her hand, slick as sin, feeling her heart full to overflowing.

Waverly’s gasping cries continued, with Nicole’s low groans gleefully joining in, until Waverly sighed an enormous sigh and finally tumbled back down, sinking into Nicole’s body, limbs trembling, body twitching as Nicole cradled her and held her close. Nicole couldn’t stop running gentle hands over Waverly’s body, again and again, her need to touch and hold and love relentless. Slowly, they quieted, came to rest.

Waverly nuzzled into Nicole’s neck, murmuring in a warm and sated voice, “I love your stories.”

“Yeah?” said Nicole.

“Yeah,” replied Waverly, light and drifting. “Love them. Love all the cool places you’ve been. Neat things you’ve seen. I want to hear them all. All your stories. I want to go there with you.”

“You will. We’ll go. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, baby.” And Nicole lay relaxed and happy, with Waverly in her arms, dreaming how bright their future together would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you happen to be in the Lower Garden District and you're looking for insanely good oysters at happy hour prices, may I recommend the Blind Pelican, St Charles at Euterpe.)


	2. Sacred Fire

It had been a long, dull overnight shift and Nicole was glad to be off duty. She trudged up the stairs, stamped her feet on the welcome mat, and let herself in.

Much to her surprise, her sparse furniture had been pushed to the sides of the living room, and there was Waverly, stretched out on a yoga mat on the center of the floor. Nicole stood for a second, blinking.

Waverly was surprised as well, to judge from the startled way she looked up. Then, she smiled, wide and happy. “Hey, baby! I thought you wouldn’t be home for another hour or two.”

“I was going to cover for Stevens, but he was able to come in on time after all.” Nicole hung up her jacket, toed off her boots and set them in the neat row of footwear by the coatrack, before turning her full attention back to Waverly.

“Sorry I’m taking up your living room, I can move if you want.” Waverly came to standing, but in a way Nicole found fascinating - somehow, the yoga workout enhanced the natural grace she always saw in Waverly, or maybe it was the deliberate way she placed her feet under her as she levered off the floor and rose, as though the motion was part of a ritual dance centuries old, which perhaps it was. Nicole couldn’t exactly say what drew her; she was drawn nonetheless. Her hands twitched slightly and she swallowed hard.

“Oh no, you’re fine, stay there. I need to run through the shower anyway.” Nicole walked by, skirting the edge of the room, and headed into the kitchen to put away her lunch box and get herself a glass of water, but then instead of going upstairs, she paused, leaning against the kitchen door frame, frankly admiring.

Waverly had resumed her routine, and was moving slowly into her next pose, bending sideways at the waist, arms unfurling in a long vertical stretch. She held for a second, then without looking (her eyes were pointed up, her face turned toward the ceiling), said, “I can feel you watching me.”

“Mm hmm.”

At that she looked, just a glance, and flashed a quick smile. “Like what you see?” she teased.

“Mm hmm,” Nicole said again. “You look good doing that. You look …” Nicole cast about for a word, a phrase that would be sufficient, “… some kinda perfect.” A vague but emphatic hand gesture reinforced her conviction. “That … pose, position, what is it … that’s gotta be the most yoga-looking thing ever.”

Waverly gave a small laugh, even as she held her stance. “This is trikonasana, or triangle pose.”

Nicole’s eyes roved over Waverly’s body. Calling the pose “triangle” meant it was well-named; it was a thing of rigid angles and sharp edges, and Waverly made it look elegant as hell. She had gone back to the upturned face, and had sunk into the breathing that Nicole knew was part of the exercise, and it wasn’t anything at all like relaxed - it was, more accurately, the limbs held in tension, the lines of the body all tugging at each other, balanced at a perfect equilibrium point.

Whatever it was, Nicole could barely tear her eyes away, and could feel the heat rising in her skin, the flush that spread across her face and chest. Her gaze lingered over the strong, well-shaped legs, the slender torso twisted in a stately stretch, the beautiful line of shoulders and arms, showing flawless skin and powerful musculature. Everything, perfect. And that it was _Waverly,_ the woman who had stolen her heart, her brilliant, bold sunshine … that it was _Waverly_ doing these smokin’ hot things with her smokin’ hot body in her living room … well, _lucky_ didn’t begin to describe how Nicole felt.

She finally gave herself a little shake of the head, thinking, _Woof. Down, girl._ She was unsurprised, and completely unashamed, by the base reaction Waverly could invoke in her body, but Waverly was deeply into her workout, and there would be time for other, more carnal things later. She finally moved her feet, straggling up the stairs and shedding clothes, and was soon stepping into the warm cascade of the shower.

She was finished and had toweled dry when she heard the coffee table being pushed back into place, and was standing in front of her closet, undecided between shirts, when she heard Waverly’s steps, and her voice in the doorway.

“I’d advise against putting on any clothing, officer.”

Nicole, turning, let the towel fall away.

Waverly was already pulling off her top as she came into the bedroom, and she closed the distance between her and Nicole with a few purposeful steps, throwing her arms around Nicole’s neck, pulling her down into a kiss that was both sweet and full of urgent insistence. Nicole found herself responding at once: how heat leapt into her veins, how her breath quickened as skin met skin, how her heart hammered and pulse roared in her ears and between her legs.

Her hands went automatically to Waverly’s hips, the familiar and well-practiced feel of pulling their bodies close together. In truth, the thought of Waverly’s body close to hers had barely left her mind since she had started climbing the stairs. Neither the intensity nor the quickness of her desire surprised her, and she was only glad, _so very glad,_ that Waverly had joined her in this rush of want.

Waverly moaned that little moan she had, and that was it. Nicole tugged at the sleek sports bra Waverly was still wearing, swiftly pulling it up and off when Waverly raised her arms. Then, she was pulling them both to the bed, and they were tumbling down side-by-side. Waverly shimmied out of the little pair of yoga pants she had on, and their full lengths were pressed against each other, delightfully naked. Nicole was pulling, pulling Waverly close, wanting nothing in the world but to have no space between the two of them, her tongue sliding and her lips rough in the kiss, desperate to touch her everywhere. She grabbed great handfuls of that glorious ass _(oh, how she loved Waverly’s fine, fine ass)_ and her body was in motion against Waverly’s, as she moaned out her own sounds of pleasure.

Waverly shifted, pushing Nicole onto her back. Nicole could feel the roll of Waverly’s hips, astride her thigh, and the arousal spiraling through her, heady as wine. And, _oh god,_ the feel of Waverly’s skin against hers.

“Jeez, Waves, you are so _warm,_ ” whispered Nicole, running her hands everywhere. Hips and thighs and belly and breasts, every inch of Waverly felt like sweet comfort and silken luxury, inviting her, welcoming her home, and indeed quite warm to the touch, the body heat of her workout still floated to the surface. Even more, Waverly’s body was humming with vibrant energy, like fire racing under her skin, Nicole could almost see it coursing through her, how it flooded her limbs and sang through her body and crackled through her fingertips, how it was pouring off her and holy crap, was it ever turning Nicole on.

“You’re making me warmer,” answered Waverly, her own hands roving freely. She leaned a little more of her weight into Nicole, hands pressing down on her chest, traveling firmly to the side of her ribs. Nicole writhed under the sweep of those palms, under that slender lithe form full of magic and heat, and her back arched, her body bent in a plea for more, more, more. Waverly, catching her need and toying with it, lowered her head and took Nicole’s breast in her mouth, with a slow, slow stroke and circling of tongue that had Nicole shivering with the rapture of it.

“W-w-w-ave …” she shuddered out. Anywhere she touched, or Waverly touched her, responded with an answering sizzle, jolting through her without letup. It was both excruciating and heavenly, this sort of slow, supercharged pleasure. It was akin to holding on to a live wire, and feeling the rising sensations as they spiked through your system. She wasn’t sure how long she could stay here, with this much want swirling through her; she felt she might fracture into a thousand pieces under the force of it.

Her long fingers twisted into Waverly’s hair, again and again, as she felt the motion of her lover’s mouth, the tongue strong and languid, stroking and tugging in a way that was making her moan. When Waverly crossed to the other breast, she cried out loud and wordless, arching off the bed, her entire body aching with sensation and hunger. Waverly redoubled her efforts, enthusiastic to her task, and Nicole could only writhe under her, her thighs open and trembling, and stutter out, “More, I, I, I need … ahh …”

Waverly lifted her face to Nicole’s. She asked, soft and growly, “What, baby, what is it you need,” but her darkened eyes were saying she already knew, exactly.

Nicole tried to snare the last shreds of speech. “Make me come, Waves,” she gasped out, “make me come _hard._ ”

Waverly’s smile came slow and shameless and so, so lovely in its wicked pleasure. She husked out, “Gonna make you come _long._ ” And then her mouth was moving down Nicole’s body, her lips burning an unbearably blissful path, lingering in every shivery, sensitive place they could find, before settling at the apex of her thighs.

Nicole gave a long, aching sigh at Waverly’s teasing mouth, at the tongue that wetted her already dampened thighs, that stroked and circled closer and closer to the center of her need. She knew her voice was calling out and rising, the words unimportant, as they were all variations on _yes_ and _please_ and _Waverly_ and _oh god._ And it felt like forever before finally, _ah ah yes,_ Waverly’s tongue was parting her, running through her wetness, lapping slow and broad, and she was shouting.

“Oh god yes Waverly that’s it that’s it …”

Because all that hum of energy had become sacred fire in Waverly’s mouth. A worldful of transfiguring heat and delight, made by some magic between them, all flowing into Nicole's body of a sudden. Nicole was helpless under the wrack of it, and she knew Waverly wanted to make her cry out for it, and Nicole knew she would shout forever.

Waverly drew Nicole into her mouth, slow and sure, her rolling tongue sending Nicole spinning into a rising tide of pleasure, her hips in wild motion. She felt Waverly wedging her shoulders under her thighs, lifting her up, and her hands snaking around her hips, holding her (some barely conscious part of her brain registered these details, thinking, _oh god this is the long haul,_ the muscles of her body flashing to a quick spasm of clench at the thought.) And then that sly tongue was winding fire through her, as Waverly delved and lapped and sucked, discovering Nicole again and again, and Nicole grew hoarse.

“Baby uhhn that’s it yes don’t stop I need …”

Nicole’s voice came cascading as she bucked, seized as she was in Waverly’s implacable grip, and Waverly was sliding through her, pulling her through flame, her lips and her mouth were dancing with it against Nicole’s soft wet heat, her tongue an exquisite focus.

Waverly was relentless. Nicole knew, they both knew from past experience, that Nicole might take a while to come with only Waverly’s mouth, but when she did it could be really big, and so they spiraled up and up. Nicole was awash in the intensity of Waverly’s purpose, the fire she was pouring into Nicole, and how bright the blaze had built.

“Yes Waves yes that’s it good uhhn YEAH THAT’S IT GONNA …”

Waverly’s tongue was lashing at her swollen clit before drawing it, hard and fierce, back into her fiery mouth, her chin pressing hard at her center. Then her mouth was moving down, silk and searing with her tongue probing deep and frenzied, Nicole’s thighs shaking, then moving back up, pulling her in, surrounding all of her in that huge impossible flame. The fire, that sweet fire, it was everything, overwhelming everything. Nicole shattered, roaring into the ecstatic void, Waverly’s strong lithe body wrapped around her hips her last connection as she fell.

she knew

she felt

she heard

the triphammer of her own heart

and the rasp of her own breathing, or was that Waverly

the pair of them panting in unison, as Nicole seemed to be spinning down, gently, wrapped up in Waverly’s arms, as Waverly dropped kisses across her hips and her belly. Nicole lifted her head and her eyes began to focus, meeting Waverly’s hazel-green gaze.

“Baby?” Waverly questioned softly.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Nicole whispered, dropping back down to the pillow as Waverly slid up, scattering warm kisses all over her face and her neck. As Waverly sat halfway up, pushing damp strands of red hair away from her forehead, Nicole could only look up at her, dreamy and lovestruck, murmuring, “You knew. You knew.”

“What did I know, sweetie?” Waverly’s voice came drifting, infinitely tender.

“You knew … knew how much I wanted you,” Nicole said in a voice that cracked and wobbled a little. Somehow she was simultaneously overwhelmed with happiness, wanting to laugh, and on the verge of tears; the depth of her emotions was a bit frightening.

Waverly’s smile was wide and glowing. “I saw you looking at me downstairs. Not a big secret. Though I admit it was kind of distracting,” she went on, with a shy little dip of her head. “I had to concentrate extra-hard to get through it after that.”

“Is that why. Why you carried so much fire in your hands,” said Nicole, her voice hazy and quiet with wonder.

“Carried so much what now?” The small wrinkle of confusion creased Waverly’s brow, the one that always made Nicole quirk the tiniest little smile because it was so fucking adorable.

Nicole murmured, barely audible, “Fire. Your hands. Everywhere. Anywhere. So much.” Awe and amazement still echoing through her, she sighed, and gave a small shudder.

“Baby, s’okay, s’okay,” Waverly crooned in her ear, “you’re not making sense yet. Shh.”

“Okay.” Nicole curled in on herself, sinking into peaceful bliss, shifting so her face lay on Waverly’s chest. Her eyes drifted closed and she felt like purring as Waverly began carding fingers through her hair, slow and gentle.

“Tell me later,” Waverly said, as she folded an arm around Nicole, quietly rocking.

“Okay,” she murmured one last time, and then she was adrift in the arms of her love.


	3. A Little Bedroom Wrasslin’

The evening began in a completely ordinary way, of course, just like any other evening. There was dinner, in this case a pasta primavera. There was a movie, some forgettable rom-com that was mostly an excuse to snuggle on the couch under a blanket. And there was enough canoodling on said couch, under said blanket, that they decided to ditch the movie entirely and go upstairs.

They had settled in their bed, the warmth between them already rising, and Waverly was tracing her short fingernails across Nicole’s chest and stomach in a way that most often led to … more.

Nicole, lying back, brushed her fingertips across Waverly’s face. The low light of the bedroom was throwing interesting shadows across her features, she thought; that beautiful jawline and those soft, wonderful lips, half-obscured by darkness, begged to be touched, to be explored. She felt herself sinking into her desire for the woman, like swimming in warm water, it ran through every part of her body calling up pleasant anticipation of the very near future.

“You’ve got a look in your eye,” said Waverly, the little half-smile Nicole found so endearing playing over her face. She leaned in a little more, her weight pressing warm into Nicole’s side, as she propped up on one elbow.

“I’ve always got a look in my eye,” replied Nicole, “when I’m looking at you.” She wanted Waverly so much sometimes that the longing was a dull ache in her heart, but here, now, when the rising tide of longing was met with Waverly’s eager willingness, well, that was the best kind of heart-racing excitement. There were occasional moments when Nicole still felt like a nervous teenager, jaw dropped in reverent awe at the sheer magnificence of the female form before her, reaching forward with trembling hands. This was one of those moments. She took a deep breath, settling herself a bit.

Waverly seemed to have some of that shaky eagerness as well, as she leaned forward. Nicole felt the small catch of the young woman’s breath as their lips brushed together tentatively, almost shy, and she also felt the twitch of muscles in Waverly’s abdomen. Responding, Nicole rolled her body to more fully face Waverly, gathering her, skin pressed to skin, her hand dropping to the curve of Waverly’s hip. They both sighed into it. Then, Nicole kissed her in earnest.

Waverly’s beautiful response was everything Nicole craved. Their mouths met firm, sliding against each other, and when Nicole’s tongue brushed seeking entrance, Waverly’s lips parted and the warm wet play grew more intense, the kisses slow and deep and consuming. They traded back and forth for a while, navigating the pleasure of each other, the heat between them a rising lovely spiral. Waverly broke off, sliding her mouth down the column of Nicole’s neck, a trail of exquisite sensation. Nicole groaned, tilting up her chin and arching her back as she rolled prone, feeling the sweet thrill of it sweep through her body.

It was easy, easy as summer, to get lost and drift in the warmth Waverly offered. They shifted and turned, their explorations active, their curiosity endless. Waverly had moved atop Nicole, a sloppy generous sprawl over the redhead’s body. She had grasped Nicole’s wrists and was holding them, a little ways out from their bodies, and when Nicole looked up Waverly wore a small smirk on her face, as if she thought she actually had Nicole pinned. _Oh, hell no._ Nicole thought perhaps she hadn’t been properly trained or, more likely, she wasn’t taking it seriously or maybe wasn’t even thinking along those lines, but _anyway,_ it wasn’t anywhere even _close_ to a pin. She had no control, it was the world’s laziest grappling mount, and Nicole could think of a half-dozen ways to escape, without breaking a sweat.

So she did.

Nicole twisted her hips as she lifted them, along with bringing her forearm across Waverly’s torso for a push sideways and up, and Waverly was tossed to the side so quickly that she was caught entirely by surprise. She ended up flat on her back as Nicole executed the low mount (a proper one this time) sitting on the top part of her thighs and tangled their legs together in a grapevining technique, immobilizing them. Nicole’s biggest advantage here was her height, her reach, and she meant to use it fully. She brought Waverly’s arms, bent akimbo, alongside her head, and pressed them firmly to the mattress, her palms weighting the middle of Waverly’s upturned forearms.

Waverly squirmed, small at first then growing with effort, as it dawned on her that Nicole had her well and truly pinned. Her eyes grew wider, but she let out no sound but a little whispered “oh.”

“Thought you had me, didn’t you,” rumbled Nicole, her voice low and sweet and hinting at trouble.

Waverly said nothing, but her eyes narrowed and her mouth pressed into a determined line. First she tried to push Nicole off using brute force, and couldn’t, her considerable arm strength rendered useless by the awkward position. Next she tried to twist her upper body away, and Nicole responded by improving her hold, dropping her center of gravity more firmly over Waverly’s hips, leaning her entire forearms across Waverly’s biceps and forearms, braceleting her wrists with her long fingers. In a real combat situation, Nicole knew this position would carry an unacceptable risk of a headbutt, but she figured for a little bedroom wrasslin’, bringing her face to within a few inches of her lover’s was nothing but an advantage. She watched Waverly, close and careful, ready to break off the mock battle at the first sign that it was unwelcome. She hadn't seen it yet.

“Now what are you going to do?” she breathed.

“I’ll think of something,” Waverly spat out, “I’m very strong.”

“You are,” said Nicole amiably, “but they train me for this, you know.” Her smile was veiled and amused, and incredibly turned on. She hadn’t quite anticipated how extreme her body’s response to Waverly’s struggles would be, but there it was. Waverly wriggled and strained, even letting out a few squeaked little grunts with her effort, and it shot red-hot arousal straight to Nicole’s core. _(It wasn't like this at the academy,_ her brain chattered. _Thank god.)_ Soon she was panting along with Waverly, and trying to hold herself in check.

Nicole could mark the exact moment when Waverly tipped, crossing from heated frustration into unvarnished lust. It was intoxicating. Waverly’s eyes glittered fierce and bright as she struggled; Nicole licked her lips and leaned in to trace her tongue along Waverly’s jaw and dragging her wrists to a position above her head, and suddenly Waverly went slack, a ripple and sigh flooding through her entire body like the tide as her chest heaved, her eyes flickering up half-closed. Nicole paused, knowing what had happened, still a little surprised by it. She said, quietly, “Baby? You okay?”

It was a moment before Waverly’s reply came whispered. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” asked Nicole, her voice soft and careful, her blood humming in her ears.

“No,” husked Waverly, her chin tipping up, her eyes closing, her stretched-out body quivering with the smallest of tremors. “Don’t stop. I … I kind of like it.” She paused, the tip of her tongue between her teeth, then added, “A lot.”

“Do you … do you want me to keep going?” When Waverly bit her lip and nodded, Nicole gently pressed, “Say it, Waverly, I need you to say it. What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Jesus, Nicole, you’re holding me down and it’s turning me on. I am _so fucking turned on_ right now.” Waverly’s voice shook a bit, silvery and wispy, a little confused and a little hesitant, and maybe just a wee dollop of shame to give the confession a dangerous, delicious edge. She opened her eyes, all hooded and dark, and they drifted to meet Nicole’s. “So yeah. I want you to. Keep going.”

_Oh, fuck._ Joy, fierce and hot, went spilling through Nicole at the words. They had played around the edges of this a few times, but here it was, raw and naked and stated aloud, opening a whole new door for them and Nicole _really_ wanted to go exploring. She wanted to taste how Waverly would turn herself entirely over into her hands, the heady mix of submission and desire sharpening her own response. She wanted to take care of her girl, such perfect care of her bold, brilliant lover, she would give anything, go anywhere, do everything for her with adoration blazing bright in her heart. She would take control and give Waverly exactly what she asked for.

There were no boundaries here, not yet. They hadn’t spoken them and Waverly might not even know what hers were, maybe hadn’t even thought about them. Nicole thought of voyageurs standing at the spot where the maps went blank, and the wonders, only hinted at, that lay beyond, and she determined to proceed cautiously.

“Okay,” she said, her voice dropping low and silky. “We keep going until you tell me to stop. If you need me to stop you tell me, Waves. Understand?”

Waverly grunted out her assent, “Uh huh.”

Nicole grinned. “Good girl,” she murmured, and continued, wanting status before hitting the gas. “How’re your arms, your legs? Am I putting too much weight on you?”

“Nuh uh,” said Waverly, “you’re good.”

“I know you want to fight it,” Nicole purred. She pressed her hips more firmly into Waverly’s as she felt her words register, as Waverly came swimming up to resist against the hands and legs holding her down, again. Nicole dug toes into the mattress, gaining purchase against the sheets, and rode out the effort until Waverly receded, panting. Nicole smiled down, a sweet smile to go with a smooth voice carrying a bright, tiny, razor-sharp edge. “Ah, ah. Fight all you want. You’re mine now.”

The small body that shifted and shuddered beneath her gave her information. The shiver caused by her words. The sucked-in breath when she deliberately rolled her hips. The hopeful crane of the neck when she brought her lips down closer, but not close enough. Nicole devoured each lesson gladly and looked for more; an adept student of the physical world, she was learning this game the way Waverly needed it to be played.

“No, you’re not in charge here. You’re gonna wait. You’re gonna wait and you’re gonna want it so bad.” Nicole kept speaking, not entirely sure if what she said was an encouragement, a taunt, or maybe a little of both. She only knew Waverly was getting off on it. “Oh, but you like this. You want to fight but you also like it and your brain is gettin’ all crosswired, isn’t it, darlin’,” she crooned, honey-sweet. “Can you feel how wet it’s making you? Can you?”

Waverly groaned and twisted under Nicole, panting out _oh god, oh god_ in tiny whispers. Her breath came short and hard; her face shimmered with a strange little smile as she kept up her struggle, the ebb and flood of it apparent in the stretch of her muscles, the sounds in her throat.

“All that fight in you, doesn’t make a bit of difference. Because you don’t know. Don’t know if I’ll let you up, don’t know if I’ll turn you over, don’t know if I’ll let you come. And there’s nothing you can do. Nothing.”

Nicole let her writhe there, feeding her with words and denying her with everything else, and let herself swim in the power she was wielding, for what felt like a short slice of eternity. It felt like it would rise forever, the exchange a tangible thing that lent strength to her. Nicole marveled to feel it between her hands, feel it sparking all along her spine, feel it down to the soles of her feet, making her a force of nature, making her want to shout with elation.

Waverly, growing more and more frantic with need, still caught in her careful web, was chanting her name in shivery whispers now: _Nicole please Nicole please Nicole_

At last Nicole moved, shifting position, lifting up to kneeling while bringing Waverly’s wrists all the way overhead and holding them there, her knees moving between Waverly’s, then pressing hard to the insides of her parted thighs. She consolidated her hold on Waverly’s wrists to her left hand, and with her right, pushed up under her chin, her thumb and index finger along either side of her jaw. She leaned in low, to whisper in her ear, to offer reward.

“I see you. I love seeing how much you want it.” As Waverly let out a little whine, Nicole continued, “Oh. I know. I know, babe. You want me to fuck you, don’t you.”

“Ohmygodyes,” spilled out of Waverly’s mouth, hurried, breathless. Her eyes were unfocused, the fingers of her hands splayed wide. She had hooked her calves in behind Nicole’s knees, maybe not even on purpose, just adjusting now that her legs had been freed. Oh god, she was so open and ready.

“So, tell me,” purred Nicole, as her hand strayed down, down, down. “Tell me how much you want it. Do you need it? Do you need me inside you?” Her fingertips traversed the flat ripples of the belly, twisted playfully into damp, trimmed curls.

_“Nicole,”_ gasped Waverly.

_“Tell me.”_ Nicole’s voice came forceful despite all its sweet velvet softness.

“I need it, I need it, I - _ohh_ -” Waverly cried loud as Nicole entered her, sliding into all that delicious wet warmth.

Nicole cried out as well, the intensity of the moment sending her careening right to the very brink, wrenching herself back with effort. As much as the pleasure of being inside Waverly exploded through her, she needed to - she needed to - she needed to hold off, just a bit longer. _This is for her,_ she thought, and Nicole fought to keep her focus only on Waverly, and then she was there and steady, fixed on the keening wail from her mouth and the arch of her back, only knowing this one single moment with Waverly slick and clenching down as Nicole curled her fingers forward.

Still holding Waverly by the wrists, Nicole moved one leg to straddle her thigh, and pressed in, with the long stroke they both loved and she knew made Waverly groan, and Waverly went crashing to the top, so hurried after being wound up tight, and then Nicole couldn’t help it, she went surging into the pleasure like a wall of water sweeping down and it was _just completely fucking good,_ Waverly was sailing and Nicole went with her, swept along.

Nicole released her hold on Waverly’s hands, needing to brace herself better. As she came down to one elbow, her forehead dropping to Waverly’s chest, Waverly tangled her fingers into her hair the way she would always do, Nicole still taking Waverly deep and strong, Waverly coming, _coming hard_ and so tight, and neither of them stopping. Nicole felt the pleasure ripping and slamming through her body and straight to her core _(hang on hang on don’t lose it now OH GOD coming with her)_ grinding and moaning as Waverly shouted out and Nicole burned with effort in every muscle from the shoulder down.

They came tumbling down out of their frenzy at last when exhaustion took them both and threw them aside, spent. Waverly slumped. Nicole flopped down, flat on her back, chest heaving, her hand reaching for Waverly’s, needing a point of contact as she lay there wrecked and panting.

Wow.

Breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Heady and happy and waiting to be able to move again, Nicole hung on to Waverly’s hand and, eyes closed, grinned what she imagined was the world’s stupidest grin up at the ceiling. She murmured, “Baby, are you okay?”

Waverly said, “Whatever is about eighteen steps past okay. Yep. That’s me.” She was the first to move, rolling to her side to snuggle warm into Nicole, draping a hand loosely across her stomach. Her voice sounded dreamy and light as she continued, “God, baby, what … what? Was that?”

“You liked it?” asked Nicole softly.

“Uh, _yeah,_ ” replied Waverly with a giggle. “Way to state the obvious there.”

Nicole laughed lightly, but added, “Just checking. That is wasn’t, um, well.”

“Liked it,” said Waverly, as the caress of her lips and her hands confirmed what she was saying. “Pretty sure you liked it a whole bunch too.” Nicole smiled and hummed, agreeing. Time flowed past them, meaningless against the contentedness that lay between their bodies. Then, Waverly perked up a little, as though struck by an idea in the moment. “So, is _that_ what you meant?”

“Meant by what?” asked Nicole with mild confusion, but unworried. She had become accustomed to it, how Waverly often made unexpected conversational leaps, and her brain wasn’t back to full power yet, anyway.

“What you meant by kinda-sorta kinky?” Waverly lifted her head, wearing a giddy little smile, looking adorable.

Nicole’s memory fetched back to a conversation in the kitchen of the homestead, making her smile warm and slow, and she once again blessed her girlfriend’s nimble and curious mind. Never a dull moment around Waverly Earp. She said, “Uh, yeah, I guess. Getting warmer, anyway.”

“Warmer?” said Waverly, her voice rising in faux outrage. “C’mon, trying to get into your kinks here.”

Nicole knew they’d be talking more about this, and soon, and it would be a pleasant talk, figuring out how they would go exploring together. In the meantime, she rejoiced in the warmth of the body wrapped around hers, and the vast happiness it woke there. She leaned over to kiss Waverly on the forehead, and murmured in her sweetest voice, “Baby, pretty sure we’re trying to get into _yours._ ” Waverly’s bright laughter in return was everything.


	4. In The Name Of Research

By the time Nicole got to the homestead, the tires of the squad car crunching on the gravel drive, both the Earp sisters were pretty well plastered. As she stepped out of the vehicle, it was Wynonna who acknowledged her first, letting out a whooping greeting across the bonfire.

“Hey, Haught-stuff! Come have a drink!” Wynonna shook the half-empty whiskey bottle in front of her for emphasis, spilling a little. “Oh, shit.”

A half-beat later, Waverly finally looked up from the blazing pile of logs, a gleeful smile splitting her face. “Yay, my best baby is here!” she said, too loudly. Then she was levering herself out of her seat, and she was half dancing, half stumbling toward Nicole, propelling herself with such force that Nicole reflexively caught her and spun her around.

“Whoa, baby,” said Nicole. “You okay? What’s all this?”

Waverly kissed her, fierce and quick, then just as suddenly let go and was dragging her by the hand. “We’re having a bonfire, come sit.” Nicole could taste the lingering whiskey from Waverly’s lips. It wasn’t unpleasant. Nicole let herself be led to the rough circle, seating herself on one of the stumps that had been dragged there for the purpose, while Waverly flung herself back into her folding chair, barely avoiding upsetting it and going ass over teakettle. “Whoops!” she yelped, laughing.

Nicole had seen this before. When the Earp sisters wanted to get drunk, best thing was to get out of the way. At least here, she could keep an eye on them, make sure they weren’t hurting themselves or anyone else. Something must have happened today. She didn’t know what it was yet, but it sure as hell wasn’t sunshine and roses.

“So,” she started cautiously, “why the bonfire?”

Wynonna gave no answer, her face a thundercloud, her eyes flinty and fixed on the fire. After a moment, she took a pull from the bottle, then passed it to Waverly in desultory fashion.

Waverly was equally silent, contemplating the bottle for a while before tipping it. When she handed it off to Nicole, she finally said, low and toneless, “There was a revenant.”

“Sent ‘im back,” Wynonna added, muted fury in her voice.

“Why do they always have to say such awful things,” said Waverly, her flat tone not even beginning to mask the pain running underneath.

“Asshole,” hissed Wynonna. And that ended the entire conversation about whatever had happened.

Nicole tilted the bottle, the small swallow of whiskey warming her, and prepared to wait out whatever grief and madness the sisters couldn’t talk about, could only drink away. She’d stand watch over them now. That was a thing she could do.

*****

Thankfully, it didn’t take all night. An hour or so passed, most of it filled by Waverly chattering about this or that, and the fire had died down. Wynonna abruptly stood and, muttering something about Doc, stalked off toward the barn. Nicole wasn’t sure if Doc was waiting in the barn, Doc was meeting her in the barn later, or if she was cursing Doc and sleeping with her motorcycle. Nicole was not eager to investigate on any count. She’d given up trying to keep track of Wynonna’s situation a while ago.

She turned to Waverly, asking, “Is she going to be okay?” and only got an elaborate shrug in return. She pressed, “Should I go after her?”

Waverly said, “It’s, um, just. Kinna hard for Wynonna,” but her tone said _leave her alone_ and _don’t ask any more questions about it._

Well. The night wasn’t cold, so hypothermia wasn’t a concern. Nicole would just have to trust Wynonna to sleep it off in whatever manner of her choosing, because really, Wynonna insisted on it being that way anyway. She stood and offered a hand to Waverly. “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

Waverly giggled as Nicole hauled her up from her chair. “Yeah, Officer. Take me t’ bed.”

Hoo boy.

Waverly was generally a pretty happy drunk. Actually, Nicole thought, she was more of an _amplifying_ drunk, so if she was happy or angry or mopey, the booze made Waverly happier or angrier or mopey-er. Often, she got silly, and she’d descended into high silliness this evening, an attempt to distract Wynonna or herself. But, the thing you could count on most, and this part usually made Nicole laugh, was that sweet young Waverly Earp was quite the _handsy_ drunk.

Yeah. She was going to have to get her handsy silly drunk girlfriend safely tucked into bed without letting things get out of control.

It felt like a long way to the front porch. Waverly was weaving pretty badly, and draped herself all over Nicole when Nicole caught her following a bad stumble, giggling the whole way. “C’mon, baby, here’re the stairs,” she urged. “Couple of steps up.”

“Three, ’s three,” corrected Waverly as only an inebriated person can do, full of both sass and solemn earnestness. Nicole guided her up to the porch, three uneven stairs and no railing, and finally inside the homestead. It didn’t get much better once the front door was closed behind them; Waverly was adorably argumentative about not wanting to sit in the kitchen for a while, kept turning in circles like a truculent four year old while Nicole tried to remove her coat, and was completely stymied by her shoelaces and couldn’t get her sneakers off (Nicole had to finally get down on her knee to accomplish the task, which sent Waverly into wild giggles.) It took a little doing, and there was a fair amount of removing of Waverly’s wayward hands from the inside of her blouse, but Nicole managed to get the both of them upstairs and reasonably ready for bed.

She’d plied Waverly with an extra glass of water, and had folded her in under the pile of blankets. Now, as Nicole sat on the edge of the bed, Waverly was still trying to pull Nicole’s pyjamas off. “C’mon, c’mon,” she muttered, her fingers both clumsy and insistent. "Take off your clothes an’ get in bed w’ me. Wan’ you here."

“Shh, no. Time out, baby, you’re drunk,” sighed Nicole, catching Waverly’s hands, trying to still them. She hoped this battle would not go on for long. The sooner she could get Waverly to settle, the sooner she could coax her to sleep, the better.

“Yeah, just a liddle,” slurred Waverly, “c’mon, doncha wanna.”

“Sure I want to, later. Right now, time for sleep. Close your eyes, baby.” Nicole knew better than to argue or try to reason with a drunk person (and it wasn’t like she hadn’t had plenty of practice, like any other police officer ever.) She could just deflect, deflect and redirect, and sure enough Waverly finally huffed in the grumpiest way possible, and she fell into heavy sleep once Nicole had crawled under covers as well and gotten Waverly facing the other way, spooning into her warmth and her backside pressed to Nicole’s hips, and her hands safely out of range so they wouldn’t wander all night.

Waverly would never admit it, but oh, she did snore sometimes. Pretty loud tonight.

*****

Nicole got up before Waverly did the next morning, getting ready for her shift. Before finishing gearing up, she sat at the edge of the bed, offering a glass of water and a couple of aspirin to her girlfriend, who was awake and reluctant to give up the blankets. “Here you go, Wave. Take these. How’s your head?”

“Nnn. Not … awful.” Waverly accepted the tablets in her upturned palm. “Thanks.”

“You going in to work today?”

Waverly swallowed the tablets, and set the cup down bedside. “Yeah, not for a while, though. I’ll bring you a cappuccino if you like.”

Nicole smiled. “Make it an americano, please, thanks.”

Waverly’s voice came small. “Nicole?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry about last night. For being a jerk.” Waverly twisted the edge of the sheets between nervous fingers.

“Shh, you don’t need to apologize. We can talk about it later, okay? I gotta get out the door now. See you later?” Nicole gave Waverly a small kiss, then turned to leave, grabbing up her duty belt and wondering how their next conversation would go.

*****

Waverly made dinner that night. She’d volunteered when she’d dropped the promised coffee by Nicole’s desk, and asked if it could be at Nicole’s place because Wynonna was still in a _quote capital M mood unquote._ So, it was around Nicole’s kitchen table that they finally were able to sit together and have an uninterrupted conversation.

They’d mostly finished their meal. Waverly set down her fork and knife, a small clatter on the dinner plate, and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about last night.”

Nicole set down her silverware as well, and waited. She wasn’t sure yet, the exact thing Waverly thought she was apologizing for, and she wasn’t going to put words in her mouth. So, she held quiet, to see what would be said next.

Like most people, Waverly couldn’t take the silence, and surged ahead, spilling more words between them. “I mean, I know you’re mad. Because I was drunk. And I wanted to, um, well, have sex and you didn’t.” She looked down, at the table, at her plate, at her lap, anywhere but Nicole.

“Hang on, Waves. I’m not mad at you, not at all.” Nicole spoke gently, and reached her hand out to briefly cover Waverly’s resting at the edge the table, before drawing it back again.

“But I was kind of being an ass about it.”

“Oh, please. You were okay. First, I am not mad about you getting drunk. Not in the least. Lord knows I’ve been there,” Nicole said with a wry grin, memories of her own sodden follies flickering through her mind, too quick to catalogue. “And if you and Wynonna are going to drink I would a million times rather you were on the homestead, and that way you don’t try to drive home or someplace else, and someone gets hurt, god forbid.”

Waverly’s mouth worked, but she stayed quiet.

Nicole pressed on. “Second, I’m not mad that you wanted to have sex. I told you that you were too drunk, and we didn’t, right? Do you think you’re the first person who ever got toasted and got a little frisky?” Nicole said. Waverly looked up quickly, surprise written on her face, before dropping her eyes again. Nicole continued, “Hey. It’s okay. Nothing bad happened. It’s, just, well … doing it with someone who’s impaired is a hard no for me. _Super_ hard no. Never gonna happen. I told you to stop, you calmed down after a bit, and you didn’t cross any lines. How much do you remember?”

“I remember,” Waverly said with a vaguely offended air. “I wasn’t _that_ drunk.”

“So, since you remember, will you believe me? We’re fine. I don’t have to give some big speech about _‘respecting the no’_ because you got there, even though you were a good long ways past tipsy.”

Waverly sadly studied her hands, fingertips perched at the edge of the table. “But I could’ve done better.”

“Well, okay. Maybe some. Maybe a little.” Nicole drew a breath, and said, “Are you willing? To know we’re okay, and do better in the future?”

At that, Waverly looked up and finally met Nicole’s eyes, and Nicole could see how the reassurance flickered and bloomed and grew there, even as the warm smile slowly unfurled across her own face. “Yes,” breathed Waverly. “I’m willing.”

“Good. Because this is really important, Waves.” Nicole gathered her courage, and plunged forward. God, why was it harder to speak about these things than to actually do them? “Because we’ve been … getting into some things, lately, where … communication and consent are vital.”

Waverly raised an eyebrow, gave a little curled half-smile, as she murmured, “Yeah.” The atmosphere in the room had suddenly changed, a whiff of heat curling leisurely and palpable between them.

“What you keep calling _kind of-sort of kinky,_ ” Nicole said, with her own slow little smile, the match to Waverly’s. “And I have a feeling, ahh, that we’re not done discovering, figuring out new things that are a whole lot of fun for us.” She tried to keep the raw eager excitement out of her face, but also knew she was largely failing at it, probably. How was it even possible? That, before Waverly, she hadn't known just how much she wanted to explore this unknown country, how strong a pull it had on her?

Waverly nodded, her eyes flickering across the planes of Nicole's face.

“And I’m still down for that, Waves. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll go with you, but it’s got to be consensual, one hundred percent. You need to know that if you ever say _no_ or _stop_ or _wait,_ I am listening to you.” Nicole drew a deep breath. “And I need to know the same thing, that you’ll be listening to me.”

“Yeah,” Waverly said softly, “of course. Like checking in with the stoplights.”

“Yeah, like the stoplights, green-yellow-red,” agreed Nicole, and then she blinked in surprise. “Wait, you know about the stoplights?”

“I can _read,_ Nicole,” said Waverly, only a little bit huffily, “and it’s not like it’s _secret_ or anything. I was looking at some stuff online. For information.”

The laughter came bubbling out of Nicole, low at first, gaining in velocity as she couldn’t keep it from spilling out, until it was a big rich sound that filled the room. “Oh, Waverly,” she said. “You’re telling me … that you … you are already online-researching _getting your freak on._ ” Because of course. This amazing woman, half parts sunny and complex, and who had entirely stolen her heart, would always fling herself toward whatever greatness she sought, filled with boldness but also armed with whatever knowledge she could glean in advance.

Waverly pretended to look offended, but then just shrugged, with a small insouciant grin. She began laughing, too. “It’s what I do.”

“Are you done with your dinner?” asked Nicole. “Because I would like to continue this conversation in another room. One with a bed in it.”

*****

They’d gone upstairs, but there had been less talking than Nicole had originally intended. Because Waverly had flashed that sweet smokey smile, the one Nicole was helpless against, and their hands found each other, and then it was sliding wet heat and willing bodies.

They’d tumbled down together and chased CJ off the bed (her feline sensibilities offended, no doubt, by how her humans would _thrash about_ so) and Nicole grinned, fierce and wicked, all her senses sparking as Waverly offered herself up and came apart under her hands. God, how she loved it, every sound Waverly would make. Each quiet moan that would well out of her throat as Nicole’s fingertips blazed a path across her thighs. How her voice would hitch as she whispered, Nicole’s name trickling soft and sacred from her lips, just as Nicole slid her fingers inside her. The long clear wailed _aahh_ as she tipped her chin to the ceiling, rising. The stuttered, frantic pitch of her climax. Nicole drank them in, cherished them as precious gifts, breathed the love and heat and connection between them.

Later, after she’d drifted down from her high, Waverly stretched out her body next to Nicole and gave a contented sigh. “I’m so happy,” she murmured.

“Mmhmm,” agreed Nicole, who had been thinking pretty much exactly the same thing. She was always happy when she was lying next to Waverly, endlessly content in the easy flow of intimacy between them. She ran her palm down the smooth length of Waverly’s torso, caressed the curve of her hips. “We’re good, yeah?”

“Yeah, good. But I do need some information from you,” said Waverly, which made Nicole look up, surprised, eyebrows arched and eyes widened with the tacit question. Waverly glared a little, with that small sharp look she had when she was trying to decide something. She blurted out, “I am still looking for your biggest kink. You haven’t told me yet.”

“My biggest … wait, what?” Nicole shook her head a little, confused. “I don’t think I have one.”

“Well, um. You’re always looking out for me, you take whatever idea comes into my head and turn it into something _really_ sexy and you are _so fucking good_ at it. You make me want things I didn’t even know I wanted.” Waverly came up to sitting, her hazel-green eyes boring into Nicole’s. “And it’s just, um. Every time I ask you if something is one of your kinks, you say _no not exactly_ with that shiteating grin on your face, and, um. It’s not helping,” Waverly frowned a little, then softened. “I want to do that for you, too, and I don’t know how. So, help me, please?”

“Waverly, how can you even say that?” Smiling gently, Nicole furrowed her brow. “‘Cause I think it’s been completely obvious that I’ve been, ah, enjoying what we do.” She wondered if her fair skin would ever _not_ betray her strong emotions, as she felt the hot crimson blush spread over her face. “A lot.”

“True. But that’s kind of the problem,” said Waverly.

“Problem, that’s a problem?” muttered Nicole.

“No, really,” insisted Waverly. “How am I supposed to know what really gets you going if it’s all equally good?”

Nicole laughed, warmth spilling out of her heart. “You and your need to know. I suppose you could treat it like one of your research projects.”

(Maybe she should have been a bit more alarmed by the flare of glee in Waverly’s eyes, how eager she was in rising to the challenge. She already knew how dogged Waverly could be in the name of research.)

“You want to know what gets me going … c’mere,” she said, pulling Waverly in close. “This. How you feel against me, like this.” And it was true, how that slender body nestling into hers called up heat, sometimes tender, sometimes dizzying. How the feel of Waverly’s belly pressed against hers and their legs tangling together made her want to gasp with pleasure. How Waverly would sigh and tip her face up, eyes closed and fingers curled to drag softly across Nicole’s cheeks, and how their lips parted in sweet exploration, and how it all made Nicole’s hands and mouth and entire body reach forward for more.

“Mm, yes,” gruffed out Waverly, as the kiss broke off and Nicole pushed her back against the pillows, rising to straddle her hips. “That did get you going some.”

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you,” said Nicole, as she leaned forward a little to cup both of Waverly’s breasts, and slowly play with her hardening nipples. The tension of that pebbled skin felt delightfully sweet under the sweep of her palms, and she savored the response it drew from Waverly. She sighed as she felt the shift of the young woman’s body under hers, the flex of her spine and the undulation of her hips, lifting to press into Nicole’s center, the heat already there now growing toward urgency. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Waverly’s hands ascended the firm line of her thighs and up the planes of her belly, her flattened palms tracing a warm pleasurable trail, and Nicole arched into it. “Well. What you like. I know you like this, being on top,” Waverly said, “but I know you like it when I’m on top, too. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Uh huh. Go on,” Nicole encouraged, as she shifted forward and leaned in to take Waverly’s breast in her mouth, the stiffened peak sliding against her tongue as she delicately sucked. She stroked warm and broad, the texture and Waverly’s small groans sending pleasure spinning through her body.

“And I know - _uhhh_ \- I know sometimes you want to go hard and fast, and,” Waverly’s voice shuddered a bit, her fingers twisting into the hair at the back of Nicole’s head, “and sometime you - _oh god Nicole_ \- sometimes you go so slow I think I’ll die of it.”

Nicole, smiling, pulled away from Waverly and rose back up, pushing some stray strands of hair back from her face. Adoration swept through her, again and always, how much she loved to watch Waverly, to listen to her. She found herself breathing faster now between parted lips, as Waverly’s hands came back to her hips and slid across her pelvis, thumbs working their way under, finding the sensitive folds of her labia, beginning to stroke there. Nicole’s hips bucked a little, seeking friction against Waverly’s belly, seeking a promise of more. “Yeah, go on,” she breathed.

Waverly’s face was lighting up, maybe with dawning awareness of her words, maybe with the naked arousal running between their bodies. Maybe both. “Sometimes toys. Sometimes no toys,” she panted. “Sometimes you go first. Sometimes me.”

“Sometimes together,” husked Nicole.

“You like it all,” said Waverly, gazing up at Nicole with her face full of wonder, as her hands moved and kneaded and stroked across sensitive skin. “Every way.”

“Now you’re getting it,” rumbled Nicole. Of all the goddamn sexy things Waverly did, she thought, watching her brain work, watching her put something together and how it lit her up and filled her with obvious joy, that was pretty damn high on the list. And that joy was infecting Nicole right now as well, the blood in her veins singing with it and her whole body vibrating, her need growing ravenous and fast. God, she needed to come, she needed Waverly to make her come in a _hurry._ It wasn’t time for a slow dance. Rolling off to the side, she growled out, “Get the cock for us.”

Waverly dove for the bedside drawer with an alacrity that would have been funny if Nicole hadn’t been so screamingly aroused. She came back to the center of the bed, her eagerness plain, her face wreathed in sultry heat and her hands filled with goodies: the bright purple silicon of the dildo, the narrow black leather straps of the harness spilling out of her fist, the small bottle. She tried handing these accoutrements to Nicole, who just grinned and pushed them back toward her. “Oh,” breathed Waverly, her eyes widening and her smile coming slow and deep, “me.”

“Yeah,” Nicole husked back, “you.” She helped Waverly with the strap-on after Waverly nodded her agreement - it wasn’t the first time she’d worn it, but it wasn’t a terribly frequent thing they did, either - unwinding and threading the straps through the D-rings, cinching them snug, as Waverly knelt there with ill-concealed impatience. Then, as one hand slicked lube along the shaft, Nicole's other hand pressed into Waverly’s shoulder, pressed her flat on her back, down onto the pillows.

Waverly said, “You want me to …”

“Just like that,” said Nicole, moving astride again. They’d never done this exact thing, from this exact position, before. (Well, they _had_ but with the roles reversed.) Now, Nicole would give Waverly the last piece of the puzzle she’d already solved. And Waverly … well, she’d give Nicole the ride she so desperately needed.

“Oh my god,” said Waverly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Saddle up, cowgirl.”

Nicole looked down, seeing the shining face of her brilliant lover, Waverly's eyes glittering, muscles trembling, waiting for her to set the pace. She paused, in position now, one hand reaching to angle the cock the way she wanted it, the other bracing herself up above Waverly. She asked, quietly, “Ready to go?” and got an eager nod in return.

She closed her eyes and, sighing, started to sink down inch by inch, her hips rolling and swaying as she took the cock, sliding wet and slick down the length of it. She went slow and cautious, learning the balance of her body, and how the play of the muscles in her legs and torso added to the heat swirling at her center, clenching down and swallowing up and wanting more, dizzying her with just how powerful it felt, the revelation of it. Waverly held motionless, for now, letting her have total control over this part of the ride, and _oh fuck_ it was good. The new angle was filling her in a surprisingly delightful way, shimmering with enough blatant raw lust to howl.

Nicole shuddered and groaned, sounds dripping out of her mouth without thought. Nothing mattered, nothing except for the way Waverly's hands passed over her thighs, and the huge primal hunger that heaved at her core, demanding to be fucked. Her hands dropped to Waverly's forearms, and she tilted her pelvis at a bit different angle and ( _OH GOD_ ) a whole new wave of ravenous pleasure shook her, how that silicon cock was hitting _just right,_ warm and smooth. Soon she had settled all the way to Waverly’s hips. She opened her eyes again, drifting in the sensation, her body thrumming with the rich novelty of it and how it made her sigh so.

Waverly’s eyes met hers, dark with naked desire, overflowing with awe and unabashed love. She whispered up to Nicole, “This, this is your kink, you want it different. You always want it different.”

“Hm, yeah,” said Nicole, as she started to move. “Is that a kink? It’d be mine. _Jesus fuck_ this feels good, Waves,” she gasped, surprise overtaking her a little. She’d begun to experiment with the motion, with the rhythm, how the rise and fall of her thighs set the friction dragging so deliciously inside her, starting slow and then picking up the pace.

And _oh god,_ the sway of it. It was work but it was immense and rewarding, too, the sharpened bite of her arousal filling all of her like sparks traveling up her spine, building into a fevered shiver, until she was a column of flame, dancing and writhing and lifting into the roar. Rise, and fall. Slick, and full, and so marvelously deep.

She felt Waverly’s hands, which had been wandering over her hips, settle and grasp firmly, her fingertips gaining purchase against her skin, digging into the fleshy parts of her ass. With that firm hold, Waverly now matched her pace, thrusting up into her with a sharp jog of her hips, and the small motion sent huge shocks of pleasure rippling through her, fierce and hot. “Uhhn, yeah. Like that. Gonn’, uhhn, be quick,” Nicole panted out.

“Yeah. Uh huh. God, you’re beautiful,” answered Waverly.

And quick she was. Waverly's motion set her jolting to a new level, flung into a maelstrom of sweeping heat that went flooding into her with each thrust. She was crying out now, her voice rising free, shouting _yes, yes_ as the edge raced toward her, and the sounds were all mixed up with the sounds of the slap of flesh and the panted groans lifting from Waverly's mouth, a jumbled riot of elated noise.

Nicole soared. Fast and high, her orgasm crashed through her in an instant, drowning all thoughts in a blaze of white light, distilled to almost unbearable pleasure that wracked her body, crackling across every muscle and sinew. Her hands fell behind her to the tops of Waverly’s thighs, bracing there as her back arched, hard, and she threw her head back, joy rising from her throat in low, hoarse incoherence. Euphoria shivered through her like a whipcrack. Frozen in place, transfixed, Nicole could only gasp out her finish as Waverly pumped into her a last few times, twice, thrice, and then they were holding there, together, in that one perfect moment that feels like forever and is over too soon. Then, Nicole was sliding down, her body slumping across Waverly’s and still humming and echoey with the pleasure swirling and slowly drifting away like fog in the morning sun.

“Oh god,” Nicole moaned, low and growly.

“You’re good, you’re good,” murmured Waverly, passing gentle hands over her arms and across her back, soothing the remaining shudders that still shook her.

“I’m squishing you,” said Nicole. Every muscle felt slack, her body limp and uncooperative.

“No, don’t move, you don’t need to move yet,” said Waverly, and Nicole let herself lie there contented, a blissful puddle, for a little while. Then, she gathered enough energy to raise up a bit and unpin Waverly, who had been patient and waiting. Waverly managed to finish extricating herself, Nicole dissolving into helpless laughter at the rude wet sound it made, and then falling over, wrung out and flopping onto her back with her limbs spread out like a starfish. It felt good, way way way beyond good, to lie there feeling happy in every way she knew to be happy.

Waverly snuggled into her shoulder the way she liked to do, and they wound themselves together to lie quiet and peaceful. Waverly traced her fingernails, ghost-soft, across Nicole’s skin, a thoughtful smile crossing her face. She murmured, “I’m going to get you figured out someday, Nicole Haught.”

Nicole laughed lightly. “I’m not that complicated.”

“Still.” Waverly turned her face up to Nicole’s, her smile broad as sunshine. “You’ve got some more adventures in you, I think.”

Nicole leaned down to kiss the bridge of Waverly’s nose, and said, “Oh, for sure. For as long as you are willing to take them with me.” She squeezed her just a little more tightly, hoping that her arms wrapped around that beloved body somehow managed to transmit all the affection that filled her heart so full.


	5. Bring Out The Ropes

Nicole sat bolt upright, limbs jerking and heart frantic, shouting. “AAHH!”

Waverly was instantly awake as well, her head turning as her eyes searched the dark, hands running over Nicole’s shoulders. “What? What is it?”

“Dream. Bad dream,” Nicole rasped out, rattled. She tossed her hair back with a flick of her head, shook out her arms, feeling the adrenaline begin to drain off as reality asserted itself. She sank back down, Waverly wrapping herself around her and making soothing noises, and she let the words come trickling out. “I dreamt … I dreamt … I was falling. A bad fall, like the time I got hurt. Worse.”

Waverly, with soft hands stroking her face, murmured, “You’re alright, you’re okay now.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m okay,” said Nicole. But she lay there a long time, patiently willing herself to calm, long after Waverly’s breathing slowed and evened out again. She couldn’t shake the feeling of disaster, unreasoning fear turning her bones to water, no matter how much she told her brain that she wasn’t unroped on the face, that there wasn’t a hold crumbling under her fingertips, that she wasn’t pitching into fatal free air, limbs flailing for safety where none could be found. _Shit fuckity fuck._ Here she was in Purgatory, where there were demons and witches and who knows what other batshit crazy monsters her eyes wanted to disbelieve, but it was _gravity_ that woke her up screaming. _Get ahold of yourself, Haught._

*****

Bright morning sun went a long way towards dispelling the memories of the nightmare, but it still nibbled around the edges of Nicole’s mind. So, after breakfast, with Waverly gone to run a few errands and Nicole with some free time on her hands, she decided to check her climbing equipment. It soothed her, to do it. It was her responsibility, knowing that every clip and link and length of rope was in perfect condition, when it was her life on the line.

She retrieved her rack from the spare closet (which held all her other athletic gear as well, and looked like a micro sporting goods store.) She hefted the gear sling, the wide bandolier that served to carry equipment to and from the climbing location, and smiled with the familiarity of its weight as she draped it across her chest, even though she’d only be walking a few paces with it instead of a long hike. Grabbing up her harness as well, she brought it all to the living room, carabiners clinking musically with each step, a pleasant sound to her ears. She spread everything out on the couch, and began a methodical examination of every last bit of equipment.

The nuts and cams and ’biners, those were easy. Nicole looked each one over, checking to see that they were in good working order, weren’t damaged or bent or, god forbid, showing a crack or a stress fracture. All perfect. Once inspected, she put everything back in its carry position.

The ropes, those were a little more tedious. Nicole took each length of rope and flaked it out, unwinding the coil and passing it meter by meter through her hands, her eyes checking for frays or flaws in the sheath, her nimble fingers feeling for bulges or flat spots or inconsistencies in the core. Once satisfied, she coiled the length back up, pulling the rope across her long wingspan and behind her head, laying it across her shoulders, loop after loop, as she’d been taught years ago. Reaching the end, she doubled the coil over and wrapped it neatly with the last meters of rope held back, binding it up with a little handle on top. Habit made the job easy.

Waverly returned as Nicole was finishing up the coiling. Curious, she watched for a few moments, seeing Nicole pass lengths through her hands and piling it on her neck, before venturing a comment: “It looks like you and that rope are in a fight.”

Nicole laughed, her hands weaving back and forth as she collected the last few loops. She enjoyed Waverly’s sometimes-quirky perspective on things. “I’m winning. Almost done.”

Waverly hummed a little bit, then made a pretty good guess. “So what made you bring out the ropes? Is this because of the dream you had?”

“Yeah, it is,” said Nicole. “I used to get bad nerves sometimes, when I started climbing again after my injury. Checking the equipment always calmed me down. This is sort of the same, I guess.”

“Makes sense,” said Waverly.

Nicole finished off the coil, setting it with the other gear, then plunked herself down on the couch, wiping her brow. “Whew! That’s a workout.” Sixty meters of rope is heavy and bulky and hard to manipulate, and she’d started to perspire freely. So much so that when Waverly leaned in for a kiss, she protested, “Ugh, Waves, no, I’m sweaty and gross.”

“C’mon, you know I like you sweaty,” said Waverly with her cute little leer.

“At least let me wash my hands, they’re all dirty,” said Nicole, jumping off the couch and heading into the kitchen. A quick scrub at the sink got rid of the grime from handling the rope, and she snagged a clean kitchen towel to dry off her face and hands. Returning to the living room, she sat down next to Waverly, who had taken her spot on the couch, and leaned in playfully. “Okay, ready for kissing now.”

Waverly smiled as she obliged, her palms traveling soft under Nicole’s jaw, but then the parted lips and darting tongue were bringing a good bit more heat than Nicole was expecting. Suddenly she was kissing back with fervor, one hand dropping to rest on Waverly’s hip, the other passing over the curve of her breast in smooth exploration. Waverly’s hand ranged easily down Nicole’s throat and chest, the silky stroke of her fingertips trailing across and under the collar of her shirt, igniting Nicole. She sank deep into the kiss, feeling Waverly’s lips sliding over her own, how she stretched herself up to Nicole in her eager way, the sleek flow of muscles under Nicole’s hands thrilling her as always. Her own tongue brushed forward, was granted entrance as Waverly sucked her in, open and warm, their mouths growing urgent as they sought their pleasure.

It was several minutes before they broke apart, by which time Nicole’s temperature felt like it was approaching _fiery noonday sun_ and her breath was coming rapid and harsh, her heart hammering. They both sat back a little, Waverly just as worked up if her darkened eyes and the hungry look on her face was any judge of it, and sort of blinked at each other. Nicole spoke first, saying, “Wow. Did you miss me while you were out?”

Waverly broke out her little smile that was halfway between coquettish and wildly libidinous. “I usually do,” she breathed. “Take me upstairs?”

She wanted to, dammit. Of course she did. Her body was lit up and singing, and when Waverly kissed her like that, Nicole wanted to take her upstairs and do any number of unspeakable things both vile and exquisite to her, for hours on end. But Nicole had been cursed young with the lesson of _finish what you start_ and that’s what fell out of her mouth. “Let me just finish this up here,” she said with no small regret.

Waverly, unbothered, took it in stride. “Can I help?” she offered, turning to look behind her, her eyes falling on the last of the gear, a pile of small ropes sitting next to her on the couch. She was grinning as she turned back to Nicole, her voice laden with naughty humour, saying, “Oooh, now these could be fun to play with.”

Nicole just smiled. _Oh, like you’re the first one who ever thought of that._ Her voice came with a bit of a purr to it, as she wondered how far Waverly would like to take this particular game. “Those are called cordelettes. Smaller bits that are useful for a whole lot of things.”

Waverly wiggled her eyebrows, saying, “Oh, I bet they are,” and Nicole noted the huskiness that was creeping into her voice.

Nicole leaned in to offer the invitation, trying to gauge if Waverly was going anywhere with this, or if she was just talking. “Why, are you interested?” she asked softly, deliberately. “Would you like to take a look at them?” Waverly did; her fingers crept forward, curious and a bit hesitant, until she’d selected one, a thinner blue rope, which she picked up. Nicole quickly said, “Not that one.” When Waverly dropped it like it was a poisonous snake and squeaked out _oh sorry,_ Nicole gave a small laugh and said, “It’s okay, I just know that one’s been in a mud puddle. Those red ones there,” she indicated with a wave of the hand, “they’re nice and clean, haven’t been used.”

Waverly picked up one of the new ropes, running it over her palm, weaving it through her fingers. Nicole could easily guess the thoughts that were running through the young woman’s head, the intensity of her curiosity showing in her face, in the shine of her eyes. _You’re so eager to try it all, love,_ thought Nicole, her senses humming with arousal and the possibility of a new thing to explore. Still, she needed to have it stated plain. She said, her voice a low, sweet murmur, “Just tell me one thing, Waverly Earp.”

“What’s that,” said Waverly quietly, never taking her eyes off the rope that she was pressing into her skin.

Nicole leaned in even further, until their cheeks were barely brushing, and husked into Waverly’s ear, “Are you thinking about me tying you up … or you, tying me?”

Waverly didn’t answer right away; Nicole sat back and bit the inside of her cheek, holding to silence, giving Waverly the room to speak as she needed. When her words did come, they were slow and meandering as a sluggish river unsure of its path. “You. Tying me up.” In contradiction to what she was saying, Waverly began idly looping the cord around Nicole’s wrist, three, four times around while she continued speaking. “I’ve thought about it … before. Sometimes. Wondered what it would be like. Wondered why people get off on it. Wondered why it was something I thought about.” She pulled one end, destroying the loops, and they went sliding off Nicole’s hand. Waverly’s eyes finally drifted up to meet Nicole’s, and they were full of questions and smokey heat.

Nicole sucked in her breath, alight with the desire that pinballed through her body and settled at her core, setting her buzzing. “Some people like the mindfuck, I’d say.” She studied Waverly for a moment. “Have you ever? Been tied up before?”

“No,” said Waverly in a small voice. “I mean, I’ve seen things, and read things, but … there was never anyone I trusted enough, I guess.”

A slow easy smile drifted across Nicole’s face, as she said, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay if you want it.”

Waverly looked away, bit her lip. “Yeah. I do. Want to try it.”

Nicole reached for Waverly’s hand, captured it in her own two, the warmth of Waverly’s skin sending a thrill jolting through her. She gently took away the rope Waverly was still toying with. “Well, I can help with that,” she said, low and silky. “Want me to show you something?”

“Sure,” Waverly husked out.

Nicole found the middle of the rope, pulled it into a bight. She threaded her index fingers through it and flipped her wrists over, once, twice, thrice, and pulled it through, creating a cascading ladder of small knotted loops. She murmured the name of the knot, “cat’s paw,” and then looped the rope over, around to make a small noose. She drew it over Waverly’s slender wrist and pulled it down to just snug, then twisted another loop into it, bringing it across and laying the knotted row over her palm. Waverly closed her hand around it gently.

Nicole spoke slowly. “Different knots, they’re good for different things.” She pulled on the rope, drawing Waverly’s hand away from her body. “Like this. It’s not a restraint knot, you could get out of it in seconds if you needed to, but very stable if you’re only pulling in one direction.” She watched how Waverly’s eyes were drifting to half-shut, her own desire sharpening as Waverly’s heated curiosity grew plain. “Then there are other knots, you’d never get out of ’em until released. Ratcheting knots. Like a Prusik knot.” She leaned in, her voice full of promises both dire and honey-sweet, as she slid the rope off of Waverly’s wrist. “I know a lot of knots.”

Waverly exhaled, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Jesus, Nicole.” She wiggled on the couch, a signal Nicole had learned meant end of patience, and in response, a crooked little grin came crawling across the corner of Nicole’s mouth. _If she’s impatient now, oh, just wait until things are taken away, one by one. Movement - or sight - or voice._ “So,” Waverly said. “You are saying there are a bunch of different options on the menu here?”

“Oh, absolutely. There always are.”

“Then enough stalling, let’s _go_ already.” Waverly grabbed Nicole by the hand, to drag her away from unfinished work and to the stairs, and Nicole happily acceded, grabbing up a few more ropes along the way.

*****

Once in the bedroom, Nicole needed to set guidelines. She reluctantly stopped Waverly’s eager hands and lips, even though her head was starting to spin with the fever of want. “Whoa, wait, Waverly,” she panted out as she pushed her slightly away by the shoulders. “Basics. I’m asking. I gotta ask. This is … something you’re sure you want?”

“Yes, I do, I’m sure,” said Waverly, the note of impatience ringing clear.

“And,” Nicole continued, “by ‘this’ I mean using restraints in a, um, sexual situation. Mechanical restraints.”

“For the record,” Waverly said with an impish grin, as her hands attempted to sneak past Nicole’s defenses and find their way under her shirt, “‘mechanical restraints’ sounds so much less sexy than ‘tie me down and fuck me.’”

Nicole voice slid back down to that low silky tone, a honey-sweet purr dripping with promise, amused as she watched how Waverly’s eyelids fluttered at the sound. “Oh, darlin’, I _really_ want to tie you down and fuck you until you scream.” Nicole reveled in the small intake of breath these words brought forth in Waverly; god but she loved the responsiveness of the young woman. “And I want to do it in a way that is so very, very good for you. Do you have ideas? Like, a fantasy about it, a place you’d like to start?”

Waverly thought about it for a second, pressing her lips together. “Kind of just as a general concept, mostly.”

“That’s okay, that’s fine,” said Nicole. "So, yeah? You’re okay with trying some kind of restraint?”

Waverly’s eyes had started to glaze over, that hazy, turned-on look that made Nicole’s heart pound harder, and her voice had gone gravelly as well. “Yeah. I am. What about your handcuffs?”

Nicole gave a wan smile; like any police officer, she’d heard endless variations on comments about handcuffs, but she wasn’t all that interested in using them for play, they carried a different weight in her mind. “Handcuffs aren’t good starter toys, the steel bites too sharp, and besides, they’re for my job, Waves.”

“Mm, okay,” said Waverly, and if she was disappointed, it didn’t show. “But rope is a thing you like. For fun.”

“Yes, it most certainly is,” said Nicole, “and if you’ll let me, I would very much like to tie you down and do things to you.”

“Yes,” breathed Waverly. “Most emphatically yes.”

Nicole leaned in and backed Waverly up on the bed until the young woman was half-sitting beneath her, languid and relaxed, Nicole hovering above. She tugged at the bottom of Waverly’s shirt, seeking permission, asking, _yeah?_ and drew it off as Waverly exhaled _please_ and lifted her arms, Waverly doing the same for Nicole. They similarly made quick work of removing their bras, Waverly’s hands moving to stroke across the bared expanse of Nicole’s shoulders, Nicole leaning in with her hands dropped to Waverly’s hips. The kiss grew heated, tongues wet and sliding, breath warm against each other’s lips, unveiled skin pressed to sensitive breast. All of Nicole’s senses were swimming, and she drank in the small moans of pleasure she heard floating from Waverly’s mouth.

Nicole sighed out, “God, baby, you feel good,” as Waverly’s hands wandered to Nicole’s front, cupping the curve of her breasts, brushing thumbs across the peak of her nipples, then pinching them between thumbs and forefingers, with a small roll and twist. Nicole groaned and arched up into it as the sensation went spiking through her body. She came back up to sitting, reaching for the ropes she’d set nearby. “You are going to look so good tied down on my bed,” she murmured, watching Waverly’s eyes for hesitation, seeing only excitement, her pupils blown dark with desire, burning like wildfire. “I’m going to tie down both your wrists, okay?” she purred.

“Yeah,” whispered Waverly, her voice shaking just a little.

“Give me your hand,” Nicole commanded in a soft voice. Waverly extended it, palm facing upward, her eyes glittering. (She clearly didn’t know what to do with her other hand, dropping it to Nicole’s thigh where she unconsciously began tracing the inside of her leg, a huge distraction Nicole did her best to ignore.) Under Waverly’s keen gaze, Nicole began making loops around her delicate wrist, not too tight, and began tying off knots, passing the rope over, around, under, a hypnotic dance. As she did so, she began to speak.

“This will hold, but won’t tighten up.” Nicole smiled a deep, private smile as she wound the ropes exactly how she desired, the sight of the layers of them biting gently into skin exciting, the sibilant hiss they made as they ran against each other as thrilling as a lover’s sigh, the triangular web of knots lying just so against the slender joint, a thing of beauty. _Maybe_ this _is my big kink she’s been asking me about._ “You can pull as much as you like, it won’t hurt you. Other hand now.” Waverly offered it up, and Nicole repeated the process, then gathered up the trailing ends of the ropes now dangling from Waverly’s wrists. “Scoot down a bit. Center of the bed, please,” she said as she moved to the side, Waverly lying back as Nicole brought her hand up to the corner of the bed.

Nicole looped the rope around the sturdy cornerpost of the bedframe, fastening a firm knot with a quick-release bight pushed through the end of it, although she didn’t mention that part to Waverly. She crossed to the other side of the bed, lingering to tease Waverly a bit as her body passed over hers, the way their bellies dragged together and their nipples brushed past each other drawing a fevered sigh from Waverly, and a sly grin from Nicole. She brought the loose end of the ropes to the other bedpost, and it was the second tie-down that started to put just a little tension on Waverly’s shoulders. Nicole could see it register in her eyes, the start of really sinking into the bondage. Oh, it was a heady thing to watch. Nicole sighed with pleasure.

“You’re caught now, Waves, mine until I release you, or you say the thing that stops this. Are you doing okay?”

“Very okay,” said Waverly, her voice soft and raspy.

“Can you give me a color?” asked Nicole.

Waverly’s reply came firm. “Green. Really, really green.”

“Good,” said Nicole, leaning in to brush a kiss against Waverly’s mouth, pulling back in a tease when Waverly tried to return it. She started on the buttons of Waverly’s high-waisted pants, saying, “Lift up a bit. I’m guessing you want me naked, too, huh.”

Waverly laughed, a little high and breathy, lifting her hips. “You pretty much never have to ask - _oh!”_ she gasped out as Nicole’s mouth closely trailed the pants and underwear she drew off, exhaling heat between her legs.

 _Tempting._ Nicole hovered for a moment, the need to fill her mouth with the scent of her lover a raw and primal thing, before she mastered the urge and shook it off, finishing taking off Waverly’s pants and setting them aside. She paused, admiring her work. Now Waverly lay bare beneath her, wet and writhing, so fucking beautiful, and with the cords coiling around her wrists and her curled fingers grasping the length of tied-off rope, her long sleek muscles testing the binds, Nicole’s blood was humming with need. _Gonna make this so good for her._

“Now the ankles,” Nicole breathed out.

She rose, quickly shucking off her own pants before grabbing two more lengths of rope, then returned. Standing beside the bed, she lay a gentle hand to the inside of Waverly’s knee, dragging it to the side and opening her further as her hand trailed down to caress her calf. Waverly offered no resistance, her face aglow, her breath rapid and a little jerky. Nicole began the dance of rope again, carefully winding and looping around Waverly’s shapely leg, not so snug that it would bite and cut circulation, not so loose that it would twist and burn. She built the column of elegantly constructed knots, the strands of rope crossing and twisting, so visually pleasing, and tied down the third point with a small bit of extra play in the rope, wanting to give more space for comfort.

She climbed onto the bed again, crossing over Waverly’s body to kneel astride her other thigh, nudging it into place with her knees. She purposefully faced the foot of the bed, away from Waverly, knowing that as she bent to her work, she’d be exposed, her own cunt slick with the play they were starting. She knew that Waverly would see, and would want, and would not be able to touch. As she coiled and looped the final cuff, the moan she heard, and the way Waverly barely bucked beneath her, the tiny fight she felt rise up and ebb away, it burned into Nicole, the gratifying knowledge of how well Waverly was responding to her art. She made loops around the final bedpost, tied the last knot. There.

She rose, and beheld what she had wrought. Eager and tied down spread-eagle on her bed, Waverly twisted and subtly pulled against the ropes holding her down, setting her torso rippling and her muscles bunching, her body lifting and falling in arrhythmic waves as she panted her arousal. Her hazel-green eyes swam in untold depths; both focused and far away, Nicole knew she’d sunk down into that curiously free state, was floating. It was so mind-blowingly sexy that it almost brought Nicole to her knees.

“Holy fuck, you’re beautiful,” fell out of Nicole’s mouth, a whisper.

“I am so. fucking. wet,” gasped Waverly, soft and quiet, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet.”

Nicole quirked a crooked smile as she moved to kneel between Waverly’s parted thighs. She checked the tightness and tension of the bonds again; nothing had come loose, nothing had tightened down, all was well. She said, “Guess I don’t need to ask if you like it.”

“No,” said Waverly, “you really don’t. Please, Nicole. Please.”

“Okay, baby,” Nicole murmured, leaning forward. Again, the heady deep inhale, breathing Waverly’s arousal, before she dragged her tongue up Waverly’s body, starting at the neatly trimmed hair at her pubis, trailing up to her belly button, Nicole dipping her tongue in and smiling at the way it always made Waverly squirm. Nicole continued, over the sternum and up to that glorious column of her throat. She whispered into her skin, “You are so, so lovely, here like this, here for me,” as she licked, and sucked a small mark into the tender flesh above the collarbone, to the sound of Waverly’s groans.

Waverly bucked her hips, the small bit she could. She gritted out, “Ahh. You’re just teasing now.”

“Maybe.” She moved to drape herself alongside Waverly, her long torso pressed into Waverly’s side, feeling every tremor as it passed through the young woman. Nicole ran her open mouth and tongue over Waverly’s shoulder, the well-defined muscles thrown into sharp relief as they pulled against the binds. Nicole’s head spun with heat, endlessly entranced by that body, thinking, _look at her, how magnificent_ as she traced her tongue over the triangle edges of the deltoid. The overwhelming hunger for warm silk skin was welling up through every inch of her body, sweet as honey on her tongue.

Her free hand wandered its way to Waverly’s breast, to pull and knead, feeling the nipple harden to tightness, hearing more soft-voiced curses fall from Waverly’s lips, feeling her own body riding against the confined writhe of the other. Time flexed and faded as she lost herself to sensation, this carnal force she had leashed and brought to heel. Somehow, the sinuous sway of it was like sailing a storm-lashed sea, so much beauty and dangerous power and exhilaration all roiled together and focused under her restless, roving fingertips. Nicole exhaled in helpless reverence, and moved up a bit more to press her lips to the curve of Waverly’s neck, and to run her tongue down that beautiful jawline.

Waverly chanted her name, over and over. Her voice came soft, an invocation, and grinding with so much want that Nicole’s belly clenched just with the hearing of it. _Nicole, Nicole, ahh, Nicole_ came floating through the room, rising above her own rasp of breath, above the thunder of her heart, above her own need that sang between her legs. Her hand traced a slow firm swath down Waverly’s abdomen, and down further, until her fingers came to rest at her groin, the tips slightly digging in to the sensitive crease of flesh between leg and pelvis, pulling and teasing her lover ever higher, even though Waverly was already held wet and wide by her bonds, before just barely slipping into the delicious slickness of Waverly’s folds, slowly spreading silk wetness up, circling around her clit, as Waverly jumped and twitched with need.

Nicole thought she’d never been more desperate to slide into a woman, but still held herself back for just _one more second,_ paused on the brittle edge while she savored the perfection of the sounds of Waverly’s groaned pleas mixing in with the exciting creak of the ropes, the shimmer and shudder of the exquisite body pressed full-length to hers, the feel of the strong muscle of the thigh bunching underneath where she had draped one long leg across Waverly’s. And then. And then. Her softest voice, drifting like gossamer into Waverly’s ear

_“I know, baby”_

as Nicole sank deep, the moan from her own throat blending with the sound of her name rising from Waverly’s, crying out breathlessly.

Waverly arched _hard_ off the bed, her shoulders digging into the mattress as her forearms twisted and strained against her bonds. Her hips jolted and Nicole held on, pressed in as deep as she could, third and fourth fingers buried into so much blessed heat and wet, her thumb stroking and circling along the clit, growling low in her throat with a need that was desperate and demanding. Some wild beastly part of her wanted to just _pound_ into Waverly, to take that slick open cunt with furious greed until they both howled with joy; another ravenous voice hauled the beast back from the brink, clamoring for the soaring heights and to make it _last forever_ and so she twisted her fingers, firm and strong, starting the powerful rhythm that would carry the both of them.

She caught the pace easily, slow at first then increasing, and the rise of Waverly’s hips, the hunger that met each thrust, deep and heated as she curled forward, the sighing shiver as she flicked and rolled with her thumb, the glorious lewd wet sound of every stroke felt like the most satisfying thing she’d ever known in all her life. She dove into the work of it, relishing the huge slow build toward her bright lover’s peak. She started out practically languid, stoking the fire with fierce concentration, easy and almost sweet as Waverly tried to leap ahead and couldn’t. Waverly whined a little, but Nicole above all else knew how to be patient, reining her in, and wove their arousal into a glorious tapestry, piece by piece, until Waverly wasn’t chasing after it any more. Then they started to rise together.

“Oh god, Nicole, fuck, yeah,” groaned out Waverly. “Fuck, yeah. FUCK YEAH.”

“That’s it, baby,” said Nicole, panting with her own effort, her tempo rising with their heartbeats. Sweat was breaking across her brow and she could feel the heat that glowed from her skin, could see it sheening over Waverly’s body, making her want to lick her until she was breathless. She pressed in, again, again, deep, relentless. “That’s it. So wet. So wet for me. You’re gonna take it. You’re gonna take it. C’mon, yeah.” She felt the ripple of muscle in her forearm, dragging toward fatigue, and stiffened her wrist against the frantic sway of Waverly’s hips, feeling her edge approaching.

Waverly breathed out her pleasure fast and hard, her voice small and silvery, like pebbles skipping across the sparkling surface of a lake. “Ah, god. Ah, god,” she panted. Nicole thought of flakes of brilliant sunshine, fractured off and filling her lungs, and so much potent desire for Waverly that there was no room for anything else anywhere in the world. She drove on. Her breath, her heart, her life, all only served to carry Waverly up and up to such sacred heights.

And then, she was there. When she started to come, Waverly twisted, her head thrown back and her neck arched, shouting out a loud _“YES”_ as her entire body shook, wracked with pleasure like a lightning stroke, the ropes’ creak alarmingly loud as her limbs strained and pulled. Nicole felt Waverly’s orgasm rippling through both their bodies, and felt her clench down so hard and tight she could scarce move her fingers. Unwilling to end, she pressed her fingers forward, small curling strokes that had Waverly shuddering and writhing and moaning even further, Nicole surfing along the margins of the continuous rapture that radiated from every inch of Waverly (and thinking _hell yes, multiples_ as she went) as they both cried out, loud and wordless and euphoric. The swirling joy seemed endless and Waverly was carried along by it, soaring up and up and up until her body quivered, hovering long at the edge of the possible, and finally receded, replete.

Nicole, sighing, felt Waverly sink down limp and trembling. She had a single thought in her mind: _Get her untied. Now._

She came up to her knees and, a little shaky from her exertions, reached her long arms up to the head of the bed, quickly undoing both tie-downs, then gently bringing Waverly’s arms back down to her sides. She swiveled, and just as quickly undid the tie-downs from the foot of the bed, glad that she’d made all of them with a quick-release slip. She brought Waverly’s legs to a more comfortable position as well, and drew blankets over them as she collapsed back down and snuggled into that slender body.

“You okay, sweetheart? Are you with me?”

“Floaty,” mumbled Waverly, “don’ make me think.”

“No thinking,” said Nicole, trying not to laugh. “I’m going to take the ropes off you now.” She went to work quickly and methodically, unwinding and releasing each limb, loosening each rope and drawing it away with as much gentleness as she could muster, her nimble fingers traveling over tender skin, and muscles that still hummed and twitched for being held in tension so long. “There you go, baby, so good, you did so good,” she crooned as she went. She carefully soothed and massaged the trembling away, willing all of the young woman’s limbs to calm, willing all the fierce joyous love spilling through her body down into her fingertips and into Waverly’s body, and tucked as much of her as she could under the blankets while she worked.

Waverly sighed and giggled under her ministrations, starting to come back to herself. “Jeez, ’m such a rag doll,” she said.

“Mm hmm. That’s right. S’okay, baby, let me do the work,” said Nicole, as she rolled Waverly over to her stomach, began kneading into the corded muscles of her shoulders. “D’you feel okay? I’m afraid you may be a little sore later.”

Waverly chuckled. “Parts of me are saying they had an intense workout.”

Nicole smiled. “Parts of you did.” She leaned down, dropping kisses on the side of Waverly’s face, as Waverly rested her head on her forearms, turned to one side. She continued at a whisper, “Are you doing okay?”

“One million percent okay,” said Waverly with a sated, happy sigh. “Floaty is still here, an’ golden is still here. I’m zinging. An’ mostly I wan’ to sleep. God, sleepy is clobbering me.”

Nicole laid down again, pulling the blankets over the both of them, gathering Waverly into her arms as she snuggled warm into her. “Sleep, baby, sleep. It’s okay. I got you.”

Waverly’s voice came soft and slurred. “I wan’ talk ’bout it, later. ’Bout why that was so amazing. Need t’ know. Why.”

Nicole stroked Waverly’s face tenderly, smoothing her hair back. “We will, baby, we will.”

Waverly mumbled, “How’r’you so wonderful,” drifted off.

Nicole found herself drifting too, as the commanding adrenaline faded away, and she felt leaden limbs dragging her down into short sudden sleep as well. Her eyes closed and she turned her head to mumble kisses and praise into Waverly’s hair, and thought to herself, yes, they would surely talk, there were so many exciting things to talk about, and this adventure, they would make it into whatever _perfect_ thing they wanted it to be. They would. They most certainly would.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these characters so much.
> 
> Some additional plotless WayHaught smut for you, dear readers. Written during the hiatus between seasons two and three, but not very connected to the canon timeline, so you may imagine these stories occur whenever you wish.
> 
> Enjoy, and please leave a kudo or comment!
> 
> Find me on Twitter: [@boo_in_la](http://twitter.com/boo_in_la)


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